


(I've) Put Down Vines of Durasteel

by mystery_geologist



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: I swear I have an outline, Not Beta Read, Star Wars style swearing, Supply is Eli's Happy Place, Tea, Thrawn really likes art, forgive me my poor writing, it's my first fic, stormtroopers can't dodge, tags wiil be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_geologist/pseuds/mystery_geologist
Summary: Thrawn goes looking for the artist behind a series of engraved wall panels he finds aboard the Chimera, and finds something interesting.





	(I've) Put Down Vines of Durasteel

**Author's Note:**

> This is a shameless oc insert and an excuse to write about star wars. Feshik gives no shits and would defect to Mandalore for 1 (one) grape.

This is not what Mit'thraw'nurodo had in mind when he'd discovered evidence of a resident artist on-board his star destroyer Chimera, among the crew.  
He had noticed a few durasteel panels here and there, among other things, had been etched along their edges, in a pattern of small vines. Thrawn had mapped out the appearances one evening in his mind, hoping to find a pattern in location. He had identified it as a small plant native to the Cholla system which seemed to be a common motif in the folk art produced on habitable worlds in the system.

It had been the work of moments to discern how many of his officers had originated from the system in question, if only because there were none. There were, however, a handful of maintenance operators that did. Only one, though, had sleeping quarters even close to the main mass of decorative markings. 

Feshik Knots. an armory maintenance tech from Cholla IV. Her records stated she'd been reassigned to his vessel for many sound and attitude complaints, despite displaying an aptitude for repairing Trooper gear and heavy weaponry. It also seemed she received many such reassignments, and this would only be the most recent.

When Thrawn had finished his work for the day cycle he began meandering his way towards Feshik's assigned work station. He'd noted its nearness to the armory and also to Feshik's quarters. He'd brought a distraction for her, a training stave of his that had malfunctioned due to some meddling on his part. And if he happens to strike up a conversation while he's there, well, many know of his fondness for art in its many forms.

He could hear shouting interspersed with the shrieking whine of metal before he even got close to the corridor. Thrawn quickened his pace till he could see the corridor to the armory stretching out ahead.

"OF ALL THE DROIDS _SHZEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIKKKKKK_ -AND YOU JUST HAD TO GO AN-VRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGSZHHUUUURRR- BASICALLY JUST A ROOT CANAL STOP BEING SUCH A BABY _-BBZZZZZZZZZZNNNNNNNNTTT_ " the ruckus unfortunately became clearer as he approached, and Thrawn could detect warmth from a single body and assorted equipment radiating through the walls and open door.

The figure was shrouded in a thick protective suit, gloves, and black visor. Hunched over, the mechanic drilled into the chassis and wiring of a gangly droid with a welding gun. The welder put off sparks and a cloud of smoke, as the droid wailed shrilly and flailed its limbs.

There is no way for him to interrupt with all the noise so he allows himself to hover in the doorway. He scans the messy room, looking for evidence of his suspicions. The workbench to the right is cluttered with scraps of components and tools, the droid clamp and other heavy equipment takes up the far half of the room, and the shelves to the left of the door are loaded with neatly stacked components and materials, and armor plates and blasters in various states of damage.

Only a few moments pass before the mechanic turns, reaching for a different tool, and catches sight of him. Standing, the yet undetermined figure powers down the screeching droid and welder, and marches toward him.

The voice which emanates is muffled and rough," What do you want, I'm busy! If this is about those fitting adjustments I offered you'll just have to wait like everybody else! There's only so many hours in the kriffing day that I can put up with you needy shebs-"  the mechanic pauses to peer at his insignia, and after a moment finally flipping up the dark face shield to get a better look at Thrawn. She's definitely the one he's looking for, though not what he had in mind.

Thrawn understands now why she's been transferred so many times. The pride of an Imperial official would find such behavior arrogant, an affront to the dignity of rank. It is small wonder that she was assigned to the Chimaera, then, given how many wish him ill.  
She squints up at him then back at his rank badge. She harrumphs and demands,"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure then, oh High Officer? Better not be more melted cell locks, they're bantha shit to fix."

Even though she looked disgruntled at even the thought of such a task, Thrawn keeps his amusement to himself as he answers, "On the contrary, my request is something more of a personal issue. An electrostave of mine was damaged recently and it is beyond my skills to repair. The conduits have fractured quite spectacularly from stress."

"...And you think this is my problem? You can see the pile of stuff I've got to work on already right?" her irritation is growing, and an eyebrow ticks up. 

"I did not mean to presume. My request is not urgent. I would merely appreciate if you could take a look, perhaps when your load is lighter," Thrawn placated. It did look like quite a bit of work to do; and after all, he reasoned, it would do no good to offend her, especially if he wanted to pry into her habits. "Normally I would repair it myself but-"  
Feshik interrupts him again brusquely, "Well never mind that, hand it over and I'll make a note of it." She steps over to pick up a datapad, likely for record keeping, and, moving to the work table, asks, "Can I get your registration number? Not that it matters but I still get audited if I don't keep track of this kind of junk."

So Thrawn tells her, and takes his collapsed stave from his belt, and lays it Feshik's waiting hand. She weighs it a moment, before taking a slender stylus from the table and pries open the access panel to peer inside.

"Hmmmmm, have you modified the wiring in this thing? Looks a bit loose. I could fix that too I guess."

"Yes, I raised the output frequency." He'd made the energy fields more aggressive. "That among other things is what fractured the conduits. I was hoping you could find replacements with a higher threshold."

She rummages around inside with her stylus before removing one of the splintering conduits to inspect. Feshik grins a bit, before announcing, "Man, this thing has to be pre- Clone Wars at the least. I can't believe it's lasted so long. I'll have to splice something to fit receptors so outdated, might take longer than I thought."

Thrawn could tell he'd caught her interest, such as it was.

* * *

She looked up the registration number of course. Feshik never got visits from Higher Management, especially the good kind of visit. So blue guy was the ship's captain, what of it. He could wait like all the whiny Stormtroopers did for her to finish hauling their kit back to a usable state.

But she hadn't lied about the conduits beings space junk. And it was so delightfully interesting to unravel the puzzle he'd given her, this Thrawn guy.  She'd been looking for a project that would be more technical than bending warm plastoid back into shape ( a task that at this point was like watching paint dry) and here it was.

This called for a diagram.

* * *

Actually it called for five diagrams, each with different power ranges and channeling setups.  She'd done them in the lulls of waiting for the warming plates to be malleable.  
But how to run them by Thrawn might be another matter; Feshik couldn't just swing by the bridge or the man's quarters and claim personal business.  Still, it might be okay to leave him a message with his aide, that Vanto kid. It might be a little awkward if aides don't normally do that, like... secretaries?...do but they'll both survive, she's sure.

* * *

It's habit and familiarity that bring Eli down to check over Supply even after so long away. What with all the skirmishes the Chimera has been getting into, it's something of a comfort to see that trooper gear and supplies are well stocked.

He's checking stacks of repaired equipment with the records, when another stack is brought in on a small repulsor lift. He can't see who's pushing it at first but she comes into view when she deactivates it. Her stack is well lined up with the others, and she updates the storage quota from her data pad right away.

Then she turns to him saying,"What's an Ensign doing in Supply, I wonder. Might you be Eli Vanto?"

He can't help but startle a bit. It's not often that he gets recognized so quickly. "Yes, that's me, can I help you?"

"Well I certainly hope so."

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued! If you got this far I thank you for reading and beg you not to hate me.


End file.
